


Dinner with Dad

by headraline



Series: Detroit: Become Human Prompts [7]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: "Jesus Christ Connor!", Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Gen, M/M, You Have Been Warned, as per title, cuteness, if you get diabetes it's not on me, implied Top Connor, meet the dad, nothing else, teeth-rotting fluff, wholesomeness to the max
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 08:15:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15602148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headraline/pseuds/headraline
Summary: Hank comes home on his day off to find his surrogate android son setting up dinner for him.He didn't expect said dinner to come with an introduction to his surrogate android son's boyfriend, but oh well.





	Dinner with Dad

**Author's Note:**

> First off:  
> "Not All Wild Horses" is coming, I just gotta find the time to sit down properly and have a cheeky write, will try to get some down tonight but no promises (might take me three or four days in total).  
> I missed my update last week because after the move, the job and everything my body gave out on me and I'm now recovering by the sea with my family.
> 
> Since I wrote this during the car ride to the sea town, I thought I'd post it so I don't leave all my lovely AO3 friends without their daily dose of RK1000.
> 
> Second: my connection is not the best and it won't be the best for a while, but I'll do what I can to update and keep up with the RK1000 stuff. <3
> 
> Vacation time ends on August the 20th, by which everyday life shall resume.  
> In the meantime, take this fluff. And don't blame me for any cavities or diabetes. XD

Hank has had a long day.

Working for the DPD in the aftermath of the android revolution is exhausting in and of itself. Dealing with what amounts to a surrogate android son on top of it all? Madness.

It's their day off; and Connor wasted no time all but flinging himself out the door to go to the new Jericho and spend some time with his people, like he's been doing more often at every chance he gets –Hank feels ambivalent about that. On one hand, it's probably good for him to integrate, if only to come to terms with his newfound nature and not have to rely solely on Hank and Sumo as his emotional support; on the other hand... Cole was taken from him well before he could experience and metabolize the proverbial growth and detachment. He worries; it's what old men do.

And maybe he's just a little put off about the rush Connor was in this morning, ready and running out with barely a greeting. Brat.

The Lieutenant smiles to himself, motioning to Jimmy to pour him another drink –the empty house is too silent without that boy and his sometimes downright weird 'personal questions'; so he decided to go out to his favorite bar.

"That's the last one I'm pouring you today." The bartender warns, snapping Hank out of his thoughts.

"What? Come on, Jim, I thought I was your favorite!"

"You are!" Jim assures, "But your boy came down the other day and made a very good point about me not being able to have a favorite customer anymore if I let him poison himself with alcohol."

Hank's first instinct is annoyance at Connor being the little shit that he is, but that’s quickly overshadowed by the rush of fondness at the android's worry for him and Jimmy recognizing Connor as his boy.

Damn right.

He chuckles to himself. "Fine." He says, downing the drink, "I should probably go back before the kid gets bored and decides to analyze something else."

Jimmy is mildly confused. "What."

"Inside joke. I'll see you around, Jim." He pays his tab and goes, not at all spending the whole car ride home thinking about the implication of other people recognizing Connor as his son and how proud that makes him feel.

The lights are on when he reaches the house -strange, Connor usually stays out later than this, more than once scaring Hank awake well past midnight and bursting with the eagerness to tell him about all the new things he's learning about himself and feelings in general, going "Markus showed me this" or "Markus taught me that" or "I went to see this thing with Markus" –coming to think of it, Connor has been spending a whole lot of time with the so-called revolution leader, apparently it took all of five minutes during and after the revolution for the two RK prototypes to become thick as thieves. Kindred spirits, perhaps? Hank will never admit it out loud, but he does feel slightly robbed.

He guesses it can't be helped. Going by what Connor eventually told him, it was thanks to Markus and his words that the RK800 was finally able to break through his program, and there isn't one android in the world that doesn't admire Markus immensely for what he did and what he was able to be for android kind. And who better to teach you about feelings than the person that has the most of them? Hank has only met Markus once face to face, but good God, that boy is the very definition of _wearing your heart on your sleeve._

Admirable, but liable to be thrown to the wolves if you let your compassion sit above your self-preservation –which, Connor told him once or twice in frustrated huffs, is something Markus sometimes does.

Hank bites back a smile.

Shit, he's getting sentimental if he's worried about his kid's friend, too –and he only met him once! Shaking his head, he shoves the key into the lock and turns, an unfamiliar but decidedly delicious smell hitting him as soon as he opens the door.

Connor must be cooking him dinner –he has been trying to get Hank to eat healthier food, after all.

It still baffles Hank that the universe saw fit to put him on the receiving end of such sweet gestures. Fighting the urge to grin, he passes Sumo sleeping soundly in his little dog bed and steps into the kitchen, expecting a right mess and Connor in the middle of it, licking things to make sure they had appropriate nutritional value or some shit like that.

"Connor, I'm ba—"

The scene before his eyes is definitely different than what he was expecting.

For one, Connor is not the one cooking. Markus is.

Second, instead of his usual robot-messiah look, Markus is in blue jeans, a grey t-shirt with rolled up sleeves and a cotton apron, of all things. Hank didn't even know they had an apron in the house to begin with.

Lastly, and more troubling, it looks like Connor is in the middle of bothering Markus while the other tries to cook –the RK800 is hugging Markus at the waist from behind and keeps trying to reach out towards the stove, muttering things and leaving small kisses behind his neck while Markus half-heartedly complains to the tone of a hushed "baby, please" or "I'm trying to cook!" –and yet he still tilts his head to expose his neck for more.

All in all, it looks every bit like a scene from a cheesy romantic movie. Hank should have seen it coming, really –lots of weird looks and long silences are making much more sense now.

"Well, this looks cozy." He calls, louder this time, and Connor instantly springs away from Markus while the RK200 slightly freezes in place.

Aw, it's cute that they think he would've been fooled. "H-Hank!" Connor's voice breaks ever so slightly with static as his processes fight between trying to sound casual and the embarrassment of being caught engaged in inappropriate activities in the kitchen. For now, the Lieutenant is silent, but his expectant gaze prompts the android to continue. "You're back early..."

"Well yeah, since someone saw fit to tell Jim to cap my allowance at three drinks a night."

The RK800 looks sheepish, but his smile is fond as he approaches Hank. "Someone has to look out for you." He comments, "Some things have no spare parts."

Hank really dislikes being hit in the face with his own mortality and old age, but the fact that Connor at all cares is worth the nagging –and he knows he owes it to Markus for helping Connor break through.

On that topic, the fearless leader of the android revolution doesn't quite look that fearless right now, what with the fidgety way he checks the food over and over and his expression becoming just a little bit tighter. "Speaking of healthier habits..." he says, pitch not quite as measured and effortless as the one coming from the touching video Hank first heard Markus speak from, "I walked Connor home and he explained to me that you often eat takeout? I offered to stay behind and show him some of the things I used to cook for Carl. Healthy but every bit as tasty as the junk ones!"

Oh it's a solid excuse, Hank's eating habits are garbage and he knows it –and yet he can't help but think an ulterior motive  to this; something to do with how and why Connor was pressed against Markus and the RK200 looked every bit like he wanted to let cooking be damned to turn and dive for the kiss.

He almost takes pity on them. "So what brought this on?" Almost.

The eloquent and suave leader of the android revolution is at a loss for words. Or rather, he looks like he's carefully searching for the proper wording option, but Connor, bless his blunt little heart, beats Markus to the punch: "He's blatantly trying to bribe his way into your good graces with food." The RK800 confesses, "Because we're in a romantic relationship and the deep, sexual nature of it might make you –my only parental figure— protective on my behalf and susceptible to ire towards him."

If Hank had a drink, he would have probably spit it out like they do in cartoons. The look in Markus' face is priceless, midway between shock, embarrassment and terror.

Good, the protective side of Hank thinks for a moment.

If he were to be completely honest, there's a small part of him that felt a surge of possessiveness rear its ugly head in the pit of his chest, seething at the idea of someone else taking his little boy's time away; but he squishes it down pretty quickly —Connor is his own person and this is what they all fought and nearly died for: the right to live, to be free, love and be loved.

Hank couldn't be more proud if he tried –though that doesn't mean he'll make it any easier for the boys. "Ok, first off— too much information." He says, faltering ever so slightly as his mind catches up to him and relays the fact that Connor just called him a _parental figure_ to his face. If anyone asks, he'll just say that there's something in his eyes. "Second..." he turns his gaze on Markus, sizing him up while calling forth all of his 'grumpy old detective' persona and looking at the android like he would at a suspect he's about to extract a confession from. The RK200 is surprised for a second, but does hold the stare. He's got a good set of stones on him that's for sure –should have expected it from the man who stepped up in front of SWAT operatives pointing assault rifles at him and _started singing_. Hank smirks. "Whether or not you're in my good graces will depend on exactly how tasty that dinner is."

Markus breaks into a smile, relieved, affectionate and even slightly knowing – _goddamn_ , whoever said androids aren't people has clearly never seen Markus smile:  there's more life in this one face than in most of the human ones Hank sees every day. The Lieutenant knows it's never a fair game against androids; and that the both of them probably figured out he's just posturing after the initial confusion and awkwardness at being caught, but despite that he carries it through to the end: the reactions he'll get out of Markus even as he knows will tell Hank a lot about the man whisking his son off his feet.

Markus wastes no time in setting the table like a professional chef, even as Connor's LED indicator flickers yellow -they're probably doing their weird wi-fi telepathy thing; and it's probably Markus going _'Connor, we talked about this, I was supposed to be the one doing the talking!'_ And Connor just sassing him like the little shit he is, judging by the vague but definitely there quirk of his lips.

"Spicy grilled chicken with mixed vegetables and cajun sauce." Markus reveals, setting a positively mouth-watering plate in front of Hank, "My caretaker protocols included looking after patient dietary habits; and I have over 30000 recipes from all over the world in my database."

Hank is not gonna lie, he's impressed. "So you know how to make sushi?" He asks, curious.

"I do. I can make it for you the next time I come over." Markus returns his still expectant look with an arched eyebrow, "Connor tells me you have a bonsai tree. Would I be correct in assuming you'd appreciate some traditional tea with your sushi? I could procure and brew some matcha or sencha for you."

Goddamn prototype androids and their mental capacity. Well, all things considered the clues are all there -his dog is named Sumo, he has a bonsai tree and he just asked a question about sushi, out of all the recipes in the world, but still. Not everyone would catch on that fast.

Hank shakes his head. "Sure, why not." He grumbles, finally digging in... and stopping short right after the first bite.

This is _good_. Like _five star restaurant_ levels good –of course, Carl Manfred is one of the wealthiest men in all of Detroit; it's only natural that every little thing about his caretaker would be just as high-class and perfect. "Woah."

For a moment, Markus becomes tense. "Is something wrong? Is it too spicy? I can make some white rice to dampen it down if it is! Connor told me you don't have any allergy, so I assumed—"

"Settle down, kid." Hank placates him with an outstretched hand, " _Jeez_ , worrywarts, the both of you. I'm good. It's good."

Markus visibly deflates in relief; and out of the corner of his eye Hank sees Connor let his shoulders sag as well -just what business do these two have, being cute and making him feel like a sappy, sentimental old man? Goddamn it all.

" _Jesus Christ_ , will you two at least _take a seat_? This is freaking weird!"

Both androids promptly scramble to seat themselves at the table. Not as unfazed as they try to look, then... especially Connor. He's got an impressive poker face, that’s a given, but Hank knows his tells; and right now his boy is struggling not to pull out his quarter to ‘calibrate’ –his approval of the relationship means a lot.

Once more, his heart swells and he nearly has to pretend it's the spices in the chicken making his eyes a bit watery.

The food was great, there's no two ways about it; and Hank would be a liar if he said he wouldn't like Markus to either come over and cook or let Connor download his protocols, but since the cat's out of the bag, he'll have his fun with this a bit longer.

"You're one hell of a chef, kid; I'll give you that..." Hank praises, not missing Connor's proud smile and Markus squaring his shoulders slightly in satisfaction as they not-so-subtly glance at each other. _Goddamn_ they're a cute couple. "...but I'm afraid this is the part where I ask you what exactly are your intentions with my son."

To his surprise, Markus is hesitant. "I... you don't seem like the type to like romantic tirades, Lieutenant Anderson."

D'awww, mister robot-messiah is shy. Hank cannot possibly hold his chuckle any longer. "You'd be surprised." He mutters, though he doesn't really give any time to properly process that: "But fair enough. Then don't embellish it. Save the poetry for the media. Or for your boyfriend."

Markus is... not quite intimidated, but once more looks like he's thinking very carefully about what to say next. He even closes his eyes for a moment; and when he opens them again he has the same calm determination on his face that he had in the video where he first announced to the world that android kind was awake and ready to fight for freedom. So this matters just as much to him. Also good.

"I will be direct, then." Markus starts, his voice different than the polite awkwardness of five minutes prior, now gentle but firm, "I love Connor. I have loved him since he first held me at gunpoint and will keep loving him until he gets sick of me or I drop dead. He accepted my feelings for him, and reciprocates them so far."

"So far?! Why you—" Connor punches Markus in the shoulder and also kisses him on the cheek immediately after.

Well, shit. That was a confession and a half. What does one even say to _that_? Hank has to shake himself out of the slight stupor he fell in while holding the RK200's intense mismatched stare. "That's... good to know." He comments, clearing his voice slightly before steeling his own expression. "I'm sure it goes without saying that if you ever hurt him I'll turn you in a fucking pinball machine, and no amount of soulful singing will save your ass."

"Hank!!!" Connor is mildly put off by the display, but Markus seems to have been expecting it.

His lips curl into a sly smile, eyes downcast for just a moment before fixing them back up on Hank: "I'm likewise sure you know that Connor would be perfectly capable of kicking my ass himself if he ever thought I was mistreating him..." true, but come on, kid, let a dad do his job, "...but fair's fair; and if I ever do something to hurt Connor so bad that he won't even beat me up over it, I'll provide you the bumpers myself."

Well, damn. Connor looks as surprised as Hank feels, so he probably hadn't heard Markus' little speech beforehand. "Markus..." he whispers, just barely, reaching out a hand to cover his boyfriend's.

If the Lieutenant any doubt about their relationship, they'd fade just by looking at these two now,  holding hands on the table surface, in full view of anyone caring to look, Markus just barely letting his gaze flicker to Connor even as he holds Hank's stare . They clearly love each other a lot –but his job wouldn't be done unless he made completely sure his boy is happy. So he asks. "What about you, Connor? Does he make you happy?"

Suddenly on the spot, Connor freezes -for just a split second, but the Lord only knows how many dialogue options he went through in that fraction of a moment, but then a smile splits his lips, bright and earnest like Hank has rarely seen him. "Happy doesn't even _begin_ to cover it. Markus is... he's..." the RK800 turns to look at Markus, as if looking directly him would generate a better descriptor, "He's more than I could ever hope to deserve..."

"Connor, we've talked about this, you _do_ deserve—"

"Shut up and let me have this, Mark."

Markus instantly mimics a zipper sealing his mouth and Hank can't help but smirk –knowingly or not, it looks like Connor has his boyfriend tied around his little finger.

"I could have never even dreamed of having anyone like Markus; and had it not been for him I'd never even have known I could at all make the choice to love someone. He's taught me more about myself than any investigation ever could, he is open and honest; and we have some of the best discussions I've ever had the pleasure of engaging in." Of course –the only one who could ever hope to match Cyberlife's most advanced prototype will only be Kamski's own prototype. Connor carries on, smile turning from sweet to cheeky; and Hank can't cover his ears fast enough: "Oh, and the sex is great too, but I'm sure you don't care to hear about that."

" _Goddamn it_ , Connor!" Yes, Hank most definitely didn't need to hear that. The small consolation in this is that Markus is mortified as well despite the compliment, possibly because of his higher understanding of inherently human concepts like decency.

Connor, instead, is quite pleased with himself: "Payback for threatening my boyfriend, Hank."

"You little shit—" on pure instinct, Hank reaches a hand out to ruffle Connor's hair.

His boy laughs, unrestrained and carefree, and something lodges into Hank's throat –he didn't think he'd ever have this. Meeting the boyfriend, making humorous threats, sitting at the table together... he thought it all lost forever, with his first son.

God, Cole would have _loved_ Connor. And he'd probably think Markus is the coolest boyfriend his little brother could ever have.

Hank allows himself an actual smile, not really noticing his eyes glazing over.

He hopes Cole is proud of _him_ too, wherever he is.

"Lieutenant Anderson? Are you alright?"

Markus' voice pulls him out of his thoughts. "What? Yeah I'm alright, why?"

He sees Connor bite his lower lip and reach out with his free hand. "Hank... you're crying."

Instinctively, Hank brushes a hand under his eyes and finds tears to wipe. "Huh. Would ya look at that." He mutters, seemingly not at all surprised. Both Markus and Connor are still watching him with wide, worried eyes; and he has to shake off the somber atmosphere. "I'm just happy for you kids." He assures, wiping at his face properly and standing up, prompting the two to stand up with him. "You treat my boy right, you hear me?" He jokes again, patting Markus on the arm.

The RK200 regales him another smile, this time a fond one, earnest and hopeful –and Jesus, he must love Connor a whole lot to instantly care so much for someone Connor cares about, just because of that— "I intend to do exactly that."

"Good." Hank nods, turning to Connor, "Well. I'm all out if energy. I'mma turn in for the night." Connor goes for a hug and he lets him, smiling at the thought –ever since they first hugged in front of the burger place, hugs have been Connor's favorite way to say hello and goodbye. "Don't make too much noise." He then teases with a wink, making Connor promptly sputter in outrage.

"H-Hank!"

He enjoys it for all of two seconds, though, because apparently Markus is just as much as a little shit as Connor is and politely assures one thing:

"I'll make him gag me with the apron, if it comes to that."

" _Markus_!!!"

"Jesus _Christ_ , kid!"

Hank goes to bed shaking his head and trying to get the mental image out of his head. Brats, the both of them.

Made for each other, really.

It's touching that they thought to set up a whole dinner to talk to him and get his approval, though really, they had nothing to be worried about— anyone would be charmed by Markus, witty and compassionate, gentle and fiery all at once; and Hank also trusts Connor and his choices. His boy wouldn't fall for someone who's not worth every second.

And this, all of this, is worth it. Every single second.

Hank smiles into his pillows as he drifts off –he has a definite feeling his Russian roulette days are behind him.

And he owes it all to a bunch of androids, who taught him more about life and love than all of humanity ever did.


End file.
